


Catnip and Aniseed

by feralphoenix



Category: Riviera: The Promised Land
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/pseuds/feralphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lyuri goes to the bar on her eighteenth birthday and returns later that night staggering and giggling, a pilfered tankard still in her hand.</i>
</p>
<p>Adventure Time with Lyuri-the-budding-party-girl and Fia-the-designated-driver (or, at least, the Elendian equivalent of one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catnip and Aniseed

**Author's Note:**

> _(The freedom of the wholly mad_ – What is it that you’re missing? Is it something you really need?)

Lyuri goes to the bar on her eighteenth birthday and returns later that night staggering and giggling, a pilfered tankard still in her hand. Fia gives Coco a long-suffering stare. The fairy returns it. Predictably, Fia spends the next half hour holding Lyuri’s hair back as she vomits into the toilet while Coco searches the house for stomach medicine.

“You would never think that I’m actually a year younger than you,” Fia says in the end, after there’s been a significant lull.

“That is what the bartender said too,” Lyuri remarks, scowling into the toilet bowl with unfocused eyes. “He _carded_ Lyuri. Can you believe that? It’s been like, actual years since Lyuri came to Elendia, and everybody knows that Haine are short.”

“That’s probably why you’re so miserable right now,” Fia tells her sensibly. “You’re hardly even five feet tall. I bet you ordered some fancy liquor far too strong for you to handle just to prove a point to the bartender.”

“Stop talking like you know Lyuri’s life,” Lyuri retorts, and retches.

“I figured,” Fia says primly. Lyuri lifts her head up for just long enough to flip Fia the bird, then goes back to throwing up.

“Hey, what about this is supposed to be fun?” Lyuri asks a while later. “Lyuri doesn’t get why Cierra and them like drinking so much when it just makes you dizzy and then makes you barf a lot. Lyuri prolly couldn’t even shoot straight right now. This is balls.”

“There’s no need to be vulgar,” Fia says. She fumbles for the box of tissues on top of the sink, grabs one, and holds it up to Lyuri’s nose. “Blow.”

Lyuri obeys. They spend the next ten minutes or so in silence.

“Hey,” Lyuri says at last. Fia looks down at her. She hasn’t thrown up in about half an hour, so she reaches for the toilet’s pull chain and gives it a yank. The sound of the flush echoes, and Lyuri makes a face at the toilet, scooting away to lean against the wall instead. “When d’you think Ecthel’s gonna come back?”

Fia purses her lips. “I think that Ecthel is probably very busy in Asgard. If he had the time to come and visit, he would.”

“Lyuri misses him. Elendia was a lot more fun when he was here.”

“Is this really the time to be maudlin?” Fia asks. What she means is, aren’t Coco and I enough to keep you entertained?—but there’s little point in asking Lyuri that seriously. She’s wasted enough that she probably won’t even remember this conversation in the morning.

“’Cause, like—Lyuri’s finally eighteen, y’know? Ecthel’s been away for ages, he always takes forever in between visits, so like—” Lyuri scrunches up her face, listing to one side as she complains. “Last time Lyuri was like, who knows how long it’s gonna take you to get back here, can we just have sex already? But he was all like, nooooo, we’re underage, blah blah responsible BS.”

_“Lyuri,”_ Fia says, and leans away.

_“What?”_ Lyuri says back, and laughs. She crosses her feet at the ankles and lets her knees fall open. “I wanna fuck him. I wanna eat his dick like an éclair and suck his balls. I wanna cover every inch of him in sour apple syrup and lick it all off. Lyuri’s a _grown-ass horny adult_ who wants to have some _grown-ass horny adult sex.”_

Her skirt is short enough that Fia can see right up it. The crotch of her pink panties is wet and almost transparent, and Fia is angry at the answering clutch of arousal that sounds deep in the pit of her own belly.

“One would not think that you are any kind of grown adult given the way that you still speak,” Fia says stiffly.

“We could fuck instead,” Lyuri says, and starts to giggle again. “Lyuri bets you make cute noises when you get off.”

Fia rolls her eyes. “You will need to proposition me sometime when you are sober, and sometime after my next birthday, if you want me to take you seriously at all.”

Lyuri rolls her eyes too, and her whole body rolls with them so that she bumps into the wall. She laughs until she snorts, and then sighs theatrically. “This whole town is filled with nothing but fuds and duds and prudes,” she says.

“If you’re quite done throwing up, I think you should go to bed,” Fia informs her. “I’m not looking up hangover cures for you unless it’s really bad.”

“You are a buttface,” Lyuri says. She is starting to slur. “Lyuri is _so_ not gonna have sex with you if you keep this up, missy.”

“Yes, don’t mind me while I gnash my teeth and wail at this terrible, drunken proclamation,” Fia retorts. “Which you will not even remember tomorrow.”

Lyuri is already snoring, eyes shuttered down.

Feeling very put out indeed, Fia hefts her insensate roommate up over her shoulders in a fireman’s hold and carries her up the stairs. She has to leave Lyuri on the floor in order to clear the bed of stuffed animals so that there is room to lie Lyuri on her side, so that she won’t choke if she vomits again in the night.

Coco is waiting with soft cider in the kitchen when Fia comes back downstairs, rubbing her temples. Fia accepts it with gratitude.

“My roommate is a randy drunk,” Fia says after taking a long draft. The spices burn her tongue and throat almost as if the cider actually has alcohol in it, but there’s not. Fia has done enough Beltane rituals, with their customary single saucer of rice wine, to know the sting of real spirits.

“It could be worse,” Coco says.

“I don’t see how.”

“This doesn’t leave the house, of course, and you didn’t hear it from me,” Coco says, holding up a finger, “but I have it in strict confidence from Nana at the Magic Guild that when Claude and Cierra and Soala finish projects, they get tipsy on old mead and summon tentacle monsters to use in _ve-e-e-e-e-ry_ inappropriate ways.”

Despite herself, Fia laughs. “Praise the gods that Lyuri doesn’t know how to use magic. I don’t know if I would put that past her just now.”


End file.
